


goodbye courage

by torrentialTriages



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, canon events but in excruciating detail, vague castille/maelgwyn tones that didnt warrant a relationship tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: There's not a lot of room for error in holding back The Heat and The Dark.Character death tag refers to the Marielda finale.





	goodbye courage

**Author's Note:**

> title from hello sadness by los campesinos! bc the "it's only hope that springs eternal" line got stuck in my headwhile uploading this and my working title was "sad maelgwyn bs bc im sad"  
> do i Ever know what im doing these days esp when i write? probably not. anyway hope u enjoy this emotional deluge. thank u noah for betaing!!!!!

There's not a lot of room for error in holding back The Heat and The Dark.

There's also no way to fix this, no way to prove his epithet right in the end, which is why his elation crumbles immediately once Samothes doubles over, frowning in pain, once the beautiful golden sword clatters to the ground. Expectations, built and built during those years of Maelgwyn’s existence, all failed and decimated in a single instant that heralds the beginning of the end. Because of him. And he can see the tipping point slip away in tandem with his father's life.

He feels like he's six years old again, crying for his fathers at night, wanting to be held and reassured that it'll be alright, he's a big boy, he's Confidence Alive, he can get through this, it's part of growing up -

 _Who said this had to be part of growing up?_ He's killed his own father, never mind the divinity inherently in mind in that statement, he took the blade in his own hands and felt the mask call in him and felt the crown call in him and his father was a solid man as Maelgwyn gripped him, muscled from all his hard honest work in the forge, but muscle could only stand up to his blade so long and it cut through Samothes' stomach like he was all softness inside, like he was butter, like he was made of the voice that sang Maelgwyn lullabies and told him stories about the world when he couldn't go back to sleep, couldn't bear the idea of waking up alone again, because his fathers were radiant and luminous, how could he _want_ to part with that? Even now, as his father speaks, chillingly soft words that make Maelgwyn feel like he's the one who's been stabbed, he wants to keep listening to his father's voice even as the physicality of the volcano rushes to meet and support Samothes' soon-to-be corpse.

And oh, yes, he's made a fucking mistake, what a _mess_ , it wasn't supposed to be this way. He tears off the mask as Samothes finishes whispering to him and he's _livid_ , he's incensed, there is _nothing_ he can do to fix his mistake and he has to leave his father bleeding out on the roiling evolving ground next to the sword he'd made for him, because with a blade like this Samothes is as good as dead, he's fucked it all up, oh, by Hieron itself, he's fucked them all for the rest of existence. And if there's no going back, then someone has to - someone is _going_ to pay. Life for life, and everyone responsible still won't balance out the weight of killing the King-God Himself, but god, he needs this, he is righteous anger still, the blade still singing in his blood. The sword's crossguard reveals a single ruby as he advances across the turbulent floor, each step heralding a storm, and soon it will be joined by a row of stones that glimmer peaceably, their future occupants scrambling to get away.

Needless to say, they don't make it. Each swing of the sword channels his fury, every life, every new stone is another throb of his pulse in his hands, clamoring for release, responsibility, it can't all be because of him but it is, it's his fault _it's his fault it's his fault it's his fault Samothes is dead and won't be coming back._

His blood thunders in his ears, catastrophic hurricane of a heart battering in his chest, and suddenly he's so empty, so slack with raw grief, he drops the sword and it clatters to the ground, he drops to his knees with the weight of his misery. He just - he's a boy again, small against the world and terrified of being swallowed by the dark. The Dark, which is surely coming.  
  
_What do you want?_

He wants... this to have not happened. He wants things to go back to they way they used to. He wants to not be the epicenter of disaster, he wants to have some measure of safety, have a light pointing the way out, he wants, he _wants_ so badly.

_What do you want, Maelgwyn?_

He wants his _father_ back. Warmth, solidity, stability, strength - everything Samothes represented. Nothing Maelgwyn can call his own. He clutches at his hair, too much a reminder of Samot, his mages, _his_ guilt, _his fault_ \- he needs the warmth. He needs the safety of Ingenuity Alive.

He becomes Ingenuity Alive.

It's a painfully naïve facsimile, and he knows - no one can truly replace Samothes, but he stands up anyway knowing he can never be Maelgwyn again, either - a shattered confidence can't be put back together and claimed good as new, he can't deserve that epithet anymore. He can do nothing with those shards but build something different.

Almost as soon as he's on his feet, on stable ground, he feels it, though. The Six look at him like he's something to pity and fear, and it rankles him slightly but he can't focus on that, the pressure is knocking the air out of his lungs, it's telling him _here, here, you have to be here down in the ground, in your final resting place_ because it's true, he is Samothes now, he knows his tomb is calling for him to follow, to be laid to rest, to be still for the rest of his days -

There is so much to do. He protests against the pull because he needs to start from scratch, he needs to do something about the Heat and the Dark, he needs to fight this relentless pressure but he can't, it's all he can do to stand and breathe. Charter hovers, stone hand clenched in her skirts, and he knows she has questions, concerns, she needs him to talk to her but he can't stand the weight of the pull. He can't put it aside, he can't just put off the fate of Hieron, it's too heavy, too overwhelming to try to set aside for a second, so he just shakes his head to her and she follows as he goes down the stairs, half pulled, half pushed.

He goes down. He follows the pressure into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @rowanhighwater if u wanna cry abt maelgwyn


End file.
